


Sunday Kind of Love

by snarkysweetness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mild Language, Post - Deathly Hallows, Pregnancy, Sexuality, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkysweetness/pseuds/snarkysweetness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being married to an Auror is a hard, lonely business. Despite their beautiful moments together, Hannah wishes for more time with her husband, especially since she wants a change in their life. The capture of the Lestrange brothers seems to bring a reprieve from their separation, but Neville is gone again before Hannah is able to speak her mind and secrets. Running out of time and patience, Hannah decides to get creative in order to make her news and demands known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2010 as a gift for the help_haiti auction.

_I want a Sunday kind of love_  
A love to last past Saturday night  
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight  
And I want a Sunday kind of love  
Oh yea yea  
  
I want a a love that's on the square  
Can't seem to find somebody  
Someone to care  
And I'm on a lonely road that leads to no where  
I need a Sunday kind of love  
  
I do my Sunday dreaming, Oh yea  
And all my Sunday scheming  
Every minute, every hour, every day  
  
Oh I'm hoping to discover  
A certain kind of lover  
Who will show me the way 

Hannah tossed down the rag she’d been using to wipe down the bar and made her way to the jukebox that lived on the Muggle side of the pub, her back aching from work she’d done today. It was summer, which meant that the alley was busier than usual. It was great for business, but hell for her body. Hannah was overworked as it was, summer just made it worse and help never lasted long around here. Dawn and Henry were the only constants in the Leaky besides herself. How Tom had done it all of those years, she would never have the chance to find out.

She already needed a few more hands around here and soon, she’d need more. It never seemed to end. She loved running her own pub. She liked being independent and in control and busy, but it no longer fulfilled her the way it had after the war. At first, the work had distracted her from Neville always being away on assignment. She’d been such a good employee that Tom had left her the pub when he’d died, much to her surprise. Hannah had always planned on opening her own pub and Tom had just handed it over to her.

Then she’d kept busy getting it up and running on a more manageable level, so much so that after she and Neville had been married, she didn’t notice the distance as much. Then the pub became a means to occupy her mind from missing him.

And now she had this damn jukebox.

Arthur Weasley had found the thing on a raid and with some help from Hannah, whose father had been a Muggle, the two got it working and the Leaky now had a soundtrack; and actual soundtracks.

Scrolling through the albums, Hannah tapped her foot impatiently. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore the sounds of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons and the musical soundtrack based on their story, the singer playing Valli just wasn’t Etta James and if you were going to listen to ‘A Sunday Kind of Love’, it had to be Etta James.

Once she found her desired track, Hannah set it to go and locked up the pub as the last patron exited the bar.

 _I do my Sunday dreaming, Oh yea_  
And all my Sunday scheming  
Every minute, every hour, every day  
  
Oh I'm hoping to discover  
A certain kind of lover  
Who will show me the way  
 _  
_Her hips swaying along, Hannah wiped down all of the tables, taking her time. Neville was away, again, so there was no rush to make her way back to their empty flat atop the pub. Being an Aurors wife wasn’t ideal, but she’d known what she’d signed up for when she’d finally married Neville. He was a hero, plain and simple. She loved him for it, she really did, but sometimes, she wished that he would stop trying to save everyone.

Aside from knowing that he could die, the nights were lonely. And if he did die, she knew she would mourn the time they lost because of his work.  
 __  
And my arms need someone  
Someone to enfold  
To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold  
Love for all my life to have and to hold  
Oh and I want a Sunday kind of love  
Oh yea yea yea  
  
I don't want a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, Friday or Saturday  
Oh nothing but Sunday oh yea  
I want a Sunday Sunday  
I want a Sunday kind of love  
Oh yea  
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday kind of loooove _  
_

Crackling came from the fireplace and Hannah jumped, her hand going for her wand quickly.

“Fucking Death Eaters,” she muttered before turning her wand on the intruder.

“It’s me,” Neville had her disarmed before she could register his face and his hands around her waist before the pounding of her heart reached her ears.

“Goddamnit, Neville!” Pushing him off of her, she retrieved her wand and pocketed it before slapping him, hard. “Never frighten me like that again!”

He gave her a sheepish shrug that was so very-fucking-Neville that it annoyed her and made her want to snog him at the same time. So she chose to remain annoyed with him and kiss him at the same time.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hannah pulled him in for a kiss that started off sweet and ended in him knowing exactly how much she’d missed him.

“Merlin, Hannah, are you trying to kill me, kissing me like that?

She smiled and pinched his neck. “Only because you like to sneak up on your poor wife at three in the morning. Don’t get me wrong though, I’m happy to see you, I just wasn’t expecting you for another few weeks.”

Neville gave her a big, toothy grin. “Well,” he began, leading her to one of the bar stools before searching for two glasses. Pouring them each a shot of Firewhiskey, even as Hannah protested that he was wasting her best stock, he raised his glass, as if to toast. “Wife, you will be happy to know that Harry, Ron, myself, and Dawlish captured the last of them. Well…you know, the human ones, at least. Greyback is still out there and I suppose we won’t ever get Malfoy, the cunning bastard, but we did it.”

Hannah set down her drink, untouched, the weight of what he was telling her hitting her hard. He’d…

It was over. Eight years after the war was over and they had been hunting Death Eaters all of this time and it was _over_. They’d captured the Lestrange brothers, the last of the Death Eaters. Greyback was more of a minion, but even knowing that he was still out there she was relieved. The Lestranges had eluded them for all of this time and for Neville, their chase had been the most important. The bitch who’d tortured his parents was dead at Molly Weasley’s hand, Barty Crouch long gone, but the brothers had been on the run. With them finally back in Azkaban, Neville could be at peace, knowing that he’d avenged his parents to the best of his abilities.

Unsure what to do for a moment, Hannah wrung her hands before finally grabbing Neville by the robes and pulling him over the counter to kiss him, spilling her expensive Firewhiskey in the process. She’d buy more.

Later, lying in Neville’s arms, all of her earlier feelings of loneliness dissolved, she remembered what had been weighing so heavily on her mind. Lifting her head from Neville’s chest, where she’d been listening to his slow, steady breathing, she looked down at his peacefully sleeping face. A small smile crept onto her lips. What she had to tell him could wait until tomorrow. For now she was going to enjoy the fact that she’d just shagged her husband for the first time in six weeks and that the possibility of him leaving again was slim.

Boy was she wrong.

The next morning, Hannah awoke alone, a not to unfamiliar feeling. On Neville’s pillow was a note: _  
_

_Have a lead on Greyback’s whereabouts. I promise to come home as soon as I can._ _  
_

_I love you,_ _  
_

_Neville_ _  
_

Crumpling the note and tossing it aside, Hannah sighed and fell back onto the mattress, annoyed.

This was it. She was officially sick and tired of his job, of the worry, of the separation, and of the danger. Something needed to change if this was going to work. A few weeks ago, she could have continued to deal with it, but now things were different.

And the Lestranges were dealt with; didn’t that mean he could move on? The other Aurors could handle the wolf. It made her sick to think of him facing off with that beast.

Literally sick to her stomach.

Work kept her mind from imagining all of the horrid things that could happen to Neville. Work kept her from being ill. Work gave her time to think of a way to get her husband alone long enough to get a real conversation in. 

“Where are they?” 

Hermione jumped out of her chair, literally. 

“My-Hannah. Who? What-Who?” 

“Your husband, my husband, those idiot heroes, where are they? I know that you know. I will hunt them down if I have to, with or without your help.” Okay, maybe she wasn’t going to venture into the woods with werewolves, she couldn’t afford to be that reckless with her life anymore, but she would find a way to get to Neville from nearby. 

“They’re here. In the Ministry. They’ve just arrived five minutes ago.” 

How did Hermione deal with her husband and best friend being gone all of the time? Hannah never saw her worry the way that she did and the way she spoke now, as if her husband being back was no big deal made Hannah wonder if she was insane or if Hermione was just a really good actress. 

With a small ‘thanks’, Hannah turned and headed for Neville’s office, with Hermione calling after her about how she wasn’t going to find Neville until after Greyback was secured in his cell at Azkaban. 

Hannah ignored her. She would wait. 

Thirty minutes later, an exhausted Neville entered his office and was met with his now calm wife sitting at his desk in nothing but her shoes. 

“My…Hannah!” Shutting his door quickly, he made sure there was no way anyone could look in or walk in. No one was seeing his wife starkers but him. “What are you doing!?” 

“I decided that in order to get some time alone with you I would come here, since you spend more time working than you’ve ever spent with me. No-“ she lifted a finger, cutting off his protests. 

“You’re done with this whole…Auroring business. I don’t care if you want to keep being a hero, but you’re going to be the kind of hero that stays in London, that comes home for dinner with his wife, goes to bed with her every night, and wakes up with her in the morning. I miss you and I gave you eight years of this, I can’t do it anymore.” 

Neville approached her and slipped his cloak over her shoulders. “Hannah, this hasn’t been easy on me either, but you know why-“ 

“I know and it’s done, Neville. There are more important things than avenging your parents now. I don’t know how much more avenging you can do.” 

His face fell, she’d hurt him, but soon he’d know why and it wouldn’t matter. 

“Nothing is more important than avenging my parents, except you. I know I haven’t been the best husband, but I had to do it, Hannah. For them. And it’s done, I promise,” he said, his voice quiet. His hand found her waist and he knew only an insane man could be away from this body every night for years, but he owed it to his parents. Kissing her cheek, he vowed never to leave her again. 

“Flitwick has offered me Sprout’s old job. She’s retiring. I could teach. I have no reason to stick around here. The only reason I became an Auror was for my parents. I could grow plants again, we could get a small cottage, you could get more help at the pub, and we can finally have everything I promised you when we got married.” 

This was going better than she’d thought. “I think everything you just said sounds lovely.” Running a hand through his hair, she bit her lip, having to rethink her entire spiel. He’d given in much easier than she’d assumed he would. He was never one to argue with her on anything but the whole Auror thing, she’d been prepared for a fight. 

“Hannah-not that I don’t mind, but why are you naked?” 

Oh. That. 

“I needed a way to distract you and bend you to my will, of course. And I wanted to ask if you noticed anything different about me.” 

“No. You’re still beautiful and tempting, just not here.” 

Neville was adventurous, but not that adventurous. 

Shaking her head, Hannah summoned her clothing and slipped back into her knickers and the dress she’d worn here. She wasn’t a fan of dresses, but she had wanted less clothing to throw back on in the event that someone who wasn’t Neville showed up in his office. 

“Better?” 

“No. But it will do until we’re _home_. Come here.” Taking a seat at his desk, Neville pulled Hannah into his lap, his fingers pushing her hair away from her face so he could look at her lovely features that seemed a bit paler than usual. Was that because of him? Had he caused her so much worry that she looked ill? 

“What’s wrong? Besides me being a wanker?” 

“You’re not a wanker. Though, I am upset with you. You just shagged me and left the other night. I’ve been trying to tell you something for weeks and it isn’t something you can send in an owl, Neville Longbottom.” 

Her tone was playful, but Neville was worried. “You’re not dying are you? I mean…it’s just, you look…well, beautiful, of course, but I don’t think the bags under your eyes are supposed to be that dark.” 

He visibly cowered, afraid to invoke her wrath. 

Instead, she smirked. “No, they’re not, but I’ve been sick thinking about you being bitten by werewolves, amongst other things that are completely your fault. You really should be more careful, Neville. You have responsibilities, you know?” 

He winced. “I _am_ a wanker.” 

Hannah took his hand and kissed his knuckles before placing it flat over her stomach. “I don’t think ‘wanker’ is the word that I would use for you. After all, if all you did was wank, then you we wouldn’t be having a baby.” 

“I told you I was sor-baby?” Neville swallowed hard, realizing now that for Hannah to be so demanding in regards to his work it wasn’t for herself. She was too selfless for that. He thought back to the night he’d come home. It never took her longer than half an hour to close up the pub, so she should have been in their flat when he’d arrived, not halfway through her duties. She hadn’t wanted to drink the Firewhiskey. And when she’d asked if there was anything different about her… 

Lifting her dress, Neville stared at her stomach. There was almost no difference, but it seemed rounder. Placing his hand over the skin, he noticed that it was also hard. Hannah’s stomach was usually fleshier. 

“How…”

Weeks ago. He’d come home. Shag and run, like usual. _Damnit_. He’d made a child and run. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but Hannah didn’t seem to be upset with him, which was a plus. He’d loathe himself in private and spend his time making it up to her and to their child.

Lifting Hannah from his lap, Neville gently placed her on his desk before placing his ear against her stomach, listening.

Her fingers moved through his hair, giving him time to let what she’d had time to deal with sink in. It was true, she was selfless and were it not for a child, she would have let him go on with his hero business because it was what he wanted. However, she would not allow him to miss any more of their child’s live the way he’d missed so much time in their marriage. Hannah would give him the world if he’d ask, but as much as she loved him, she loved her little pod person even more. It was nothing more than a flutter, but it was already the love of her life.

“Our baby.” Neville whispered after what seemed like ages, his lips kissing just above her belly button.

“Our baby,” she confirmed.

“And no more war? No more Death Eaters? No growing up without parents?”

Hannah shook her head. “None of those things.”

“Is this why you always put up with me? So when this day came, we wouldn’t have to worry?”

She nodded. “Of course. And you have perfect timing, Neville.”

“Not a wanker?”

She laughed and kissed him. Okay, maybe he was still the love of her life. Perhaps they could both be the love of her life. “Neville, I love you, but sometimes, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.

Hannah?”

“Yes?”

“There’s one more stupid hero thing that I need to do. And then I promise, I’m done.”

She tried not to roll her eyes.

“What?”

He took her hand and helped her off of the desk. “I need to inform some famous victims of the Lestranges that they’ve been avenged. And that they’re going to be grandparents. Care to join me?”

Stupid Gryffindor.

Hannah nodded, knowing how much it meant for him to take her with him. He didn’t like to share the small amount of time he got with his parents. She was honored.

“I suppose I could forgive you this one last stupid hero moment.”

Neville smiled goofily. “I love you.”

“I know.” She didn’t have to say it back, she’d just given him everything he’d ever really needed in life and now he could retire into the simple, boring existence that everyone had always expected him to have. The stupid, unexpected hero known as Neville Longbottom was perfectly fine with finally being simple.


End file.
